An Autobiography Of A Mirror

Okay. We all have it. Almost!!...

A mirror to see ourselves, to tend ourselves with better things.

A mascara, lipstick, (I love mat finish personally), eye-liner, and the earrings?

Oh..you can't simply forget earrings.

You know your eyes are dark, deep down if someone tries to look into your eyes,

A cold, calm Fall.

A mirror - keeper of secrets. It knows you,

Maybe the best of you and the worst of you.

Just when you forget to wear the ‘Bindi’ and when you notice the shade of your lipstick.

It reminds you of the person who loves your Saree more than anything,

“Hey, your cleavage is open too much”, like a voice you hear. Like a command, you listen,

“ Won't you wear your bra today?” and like a child, you giggle in front of it “ the most beautiful woman”... 

From morning till night, with your coffee and without it, Mirror tells you the same story,

Do you listen?

Do you feel shy in front of it?

Do you see yourself naked in it and do you moan?

Does it moan with you? Uff..the voice excluded.

Does it let you touch yourself?

Truth only exists here and nothing less than that.

“You send your pictures. But those were me. The very ME!

That is not You. That is me.

And I didn't want that. Do you ever realize that?

No. why didn't you?” The Mirror mourns now,

“Till yesterday night, I used to captivate your charm, speak for you - the curves on your waist,

The colour of your panty, how you should keep your hair.

Did you forget kissing me on my cheek?

You know, that one, that day? You were checking how well you could kiss. Because you had to kiss some guy. That was bliss. Pure Bliss like when you are wet.